Private Time
by Dreaming of Everything
Summary: People have certain  sexual  needs, and Komatsu is attempting to handle the matter as discreetly as he can. Unfortunately, his traveling companions are particularly sensitive, and definitely interested. Hints of Komatsu/Toriko/Coco/Zebra/Sani, unresolved.


**Private Time  
><strong>Dreaming of Everything

Warnings: voyeurism; masturbation; vaguely poly overtones, mostly because in my head this is the beginnings of an eventual poly relationship, but take this with a grain of salt, since that's my opinion of the actual canon manga; UST (unresolved sexual tension); and that should be everything. Rated T, although I debated going with M for safety, due to definitely present "suggestive themes." (And by that I mean Komatsu masturbating.) Although it does occur off-screen, so to speak.

**Notice 3/13/2014: all further Toriko fics will be posted only on Archive Of Our Own.** Look up AO3 for my recent Toriko fics.

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><p>Of course, it was accepted that, every so often, a soul would need to sneak off into the woods for "private time." It came as part of the territory, traveling through incredibly dangerous locales for long periods of time; men had certain needs and urges, and when you might die at any point, it helped to release a little tension now and then. So to speak.<p>

It was a relatively safe campsite. Toriko hadn't smelled anything dangerous; almost everything had fled, faced with the danger the Four Kings presented; Zebra would hear it if Komatsu was attacked. So he was masturbating in a bush, at or just over the crest of a slight hill, a short distance away from the camp. Not very far away—the point was discretion, more than anything else, more plausible deniability than invisibility. Actual hiding would be unsafe, for him at least.

Back at camp, Coco finished setting up the tents, Sani assisting him somewhat willingly, complaining a little as he went. Toriko had a fire going, with water heating over it at Komatsu's request, something about needing to boil the poison off of the mushrooms he'd been gathering all day. They all trusted him, of course, even if it wasn't something that any of them—excluding Coco—would attempt to eat on their own, without a chef of Komatsu's caliber to prepare them. Zebra-san was dressing a dead... _something_ that he'd found, making Toriko drool slightly. It probably wouldn't be too long before the two of them got into another mock scuffle, a half-serious fight that sent them crashing across the camp, hopefully away from the tents; of course the food would remain undisturbed, and Komatsu would be safe even if they managed to drag Sani into it—Coco inevitably refused to involve himself.

They all had priorities, after all. Or, rather, they all had Komatsu.

Zebra looked up first, face darkening momentarily into a scowl at a soft sound only he could catch: a hitch of breath, a swallowed sigh. Attuned to the rhythms of the camp, and as acutely aware of Komatsu's presence as he always was, Coco's head went up immediately as he looked around them, worried that something had managed to sneak up on them, maybe something not powerful enough to catch their attention but more than enough to present a danger to Komatsu—

Through the trees, with his preternatural vision, his eyes widening, he caught a glimpse of Komatsu's face, eyes half closed, biting his lip with—pleasure, not pain was stamped on his face, hands hidden (thankfully; he cursed his luck, then felt bad for it) but back clearly arched, arms moving slowly, shirt pulled up to expose a lean expanse of stomach—

Coco snapped back around in the other direction, eyes staring blankly, fast enough to distract Sani from where he was fussing idly with the draping of the tent's fabric, his own eyes narrowing. "What? Is it 'Matsu?" he asked, looking around, hair flaring out a little further. There wasn't any answer.

Zebra was staring at the animal in front of him, knife still even though it was halfway through cutting off a slice of meat. Coco had his arms crossed and his back determinedly turned, face immobile. Toriko was _scenting_ the air, leaning forward, expression as intent as it ever got, muscles tensed, hungry as he took deep breaths, trying to gather more of whatever it was that he smelled.

Coco could guess what it was.

"What 's it?" Sani demanded again, looking halfway between worried and angry or irritated. He knew that none of them would endanger Komatsu, would fight tooth and nail—as he would—to save him, but...

Toriko wavered, like he wanted to stand, to track that scent down to the source (sweat, semen, the normal scent of Komatsu, always appealing, sharpened and deepened...) and _taste_ it. For once, desire didn't translate immediately to action and he held back. Komatsu always had been the only person to evoke any sort of restraint in him: waiting to taste the Melk stardust had been an exquisite form of torture, but more than worth it.

Zebra sighed, apparently in response to something overheard, eyes remarkably distant. The sound wasn't much like him at all, slightly shaky and definitely unfamiliar in his deep baritone, almost—_almost—_wanting, and remarkably free of the anger that seemed to cling to him like a cloak.

"Everything is fine," Coco said carefully, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, before Sani went off looking for his own answer. His tone sounded a little artificial even to his own ears. "Komatsu-kun is, ah—"

"Jerking off," interjected Toriko, with all his characteristic delicacy, although his own attention was clearly focused elsewhere. Sani hissed in a breath, holding it a moment too long, eyes widening.

Then let it out with a sigh of his own, biting his own lip as he muttered something. He sounded sulky again, and crossed his arms moodily. Coco suspected that he'd get a taste when Komatsu returned, and tried not to linger on the thought. Instead, he finished stowing their gear—what food they'd brought with them, mostly Komatsu's most-essential spices, went up a tree, dangling from a branch to discourage unwise scavengers; clothes in the tent—although it looked a little odd. Mostly because he was still firmly keeping his back to—well, to Komatsu-kun. It was rude to spy, beyond rude, really, even if he was _right there,_ he couldn't exactly help that and—

He shook his head, and took a seat, pulling out a bottle of water (quickly drained) and the book he was reading, which he stared at, blankly. Sani flopped down a short distance from him, rather less graceful than he usually was, with a slight scowl, and Coco ignored it when he felt himself tasted a little more thoroughly than normal. It wasn't exactly a normal situation.

Several minutes and a small eternity later, Komatsu-kun reappeared, some sort of gently-waving leaf held in his hand, looking thoroughly excited about it. "I found friendly sage!" he announced. "It'll be perfect with the heavy flavor of the alligator-boar, earthy to counter the gaminess of the adult, and robust enough to complement the—Toriko-san? Is everything alright?"

Toriko looked away from Komatsu, whom he'd been focusing on with all the concentration of a top predator, swallowing visibly. A split-second moment later, Komatsu starting to look slightly concerned—the various fixed expressions of the other three bishoku-ya probably not helping—Toriko turned back, more visibly himself. "Sounds delicious!" he announced, already beginning to drool a little. "I'm hungry." Komatsu just shook his head, fondly, smiling at him, before turning to their dinner-to-be. "Zebra-san, you're not done? Here, let me help—"

Zebra growled in apparent irritation, although it lacked any bite. Komatsu seemed to do that to him. Coco moved to help as well, laughing softly to himself, as gently amused as always by Komatsu's pure, unadulterated joy for food and cooking, able to put aside what he'd seen. (For now, he didn't think.) Sani was content to lay back and watch them, a truly satisfied (and just slightly gleeful) grin stretching across his face, nothing at all like his usual reserved, "beaut'ful" smile...

Coco took a closer look, and sighed as he recognized the glint of Sani's "touch" surrounding the diminutive chef even more thickly than usual. He shot Sani a very vocal look indeed, just a hint of threat in it—not enough to alert Komatsu, although he seemed remarkably immune to their intimidation techniques in general, but enough to inform the smirking man that he was serious: tasting the cooling sweat on Komatsu's skin, the flavor of the man himself, wasn't the sort of thing you did without his knowledge—

Not that he thought that Komatsu would mind. He'd always been strangely tolerant of all of them, and their quirks—visibly unconcerned about Coco's poison, uncaring or good-naturedly accepting of Sani's occasionally off-putting attitude and tendency to get handsy, so to speak, and increasingly immune to Zebra's threats and demands, even if he usually indulged the latter. Nothing Toriko did seem to put him off, certainly, he was the only soul to spend so much time _hugging_ the man, and nothing he did seem to slow him down. They just complemented each other, like wine chosen to perfectly match a meal.

The warning glare charged the air enough to make Zebra look over, and Toriko. "Bastard," snapped Zebra, catching on, while Toriko laughed. Komatsu, oblivious, looked up then shrugged, more concerned with how to divide the alligator boar into appropriate cuts, and what to do with each one. He wasn't particularly fond of Toriko's usual strategy, roast it all over the fire, at least not when dealing with a sensitive, occasionally tough or overwhelming meat, preferring an approach with more finesse. Not that it was easy to keep up with the appetites he was feeding...

"The water's boiling, Komatsu-kun," Coco said, pleasantly, interrupting his train of thought. "Oh! Thanks," Komatsu called back, hopping up and hurrying to grab the mushrooms he'd found. It'd be a little tricky to fix them, but boiling would remove the poison, then smoking them briefly over the fire would intensify the earthy, rich flavor of the mushrooms, making them the perfect accompaniment for the meat—he hoped it would work! And Coco-san had already offered to try them to make sure that the poison was completely removed. He was lucky to be traveling with all of the Four Kings, unbelievably lucky.

He wiped his hands off, absentmindedly, on his shirt, not wanting to get blood and viscera on his gourmet cases, exposing a quick flash of paler skin, smooth and lean. Sani sighed, apparently with pleasure, making Komatsu look over, but the bishoku-ya's eyes were closed.

"It looks like rain," Coco announced, voice tightly controlled, scanning the horizon with slightly abnormal intensity. "Although we should stay dry with the rain flies on the tents."

"Hopefully I'll be done cooking," Komatsu responded, cheerily, carefully upending the gourmet case over the boiling water. He'd probably be fine if he did end up poisoned—Coco at least had started carrying some of the more common antivenins around with him; hopefully not just for Komatsu himself, he thought guiltily, he really wasn't worth that much extra effort—but it was better to just avoid it in the first place. He didn't manage to keep from splashing himself with a few drops of boiling water, scalding his fingers slightly.

He sighed, popping the two scalded digits into his mouth, sucking on them briefly, before returning to his cooking, stirring the mushrooms with a slotted spoon as he kept a careful eye on them. They should change color subtly, going a lighter shade of brown as the poison leached out, it wouldn't do to overcook them! And each mushroom would be subtly different in cooking time, since they were all different sizes and ages, with different amounts of poison...

Across the fire, Zebra hacked apart a leg bone with more force than necessary, swearing vehemently, glaring heatedly at his hands and the meat he was tearing apart, very carefully not looking (back) at the slim fingers that had disappeared into Komatsu's mouth, the way his cheeks had hollowed. Not as good as his expression when he discovered a new taste, but. _But_. Scowling, he very visibly gritted his teeth—hard to miss with his mouth torn open like that. _"Damn_ it!"

"I hate _waiting_," Toriko insisted, apparently a non-sequitur.

"Dinner'll be ready when it's ready," Komatsu told him, easily, getting into the swing of things now. It said a lot about his adaptability that he could look like the professional chef he was, comfortable and at ease, even in the middle of a forest, wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt liberally decorated with blood and dirt, apron and hat conspicuously absent, working over a wood fire. "There are some fruit trees over there, I think. You could get a snack and bring some back for dessert!"

Toriko brightened, but didn't move immediately, apparently otherwise occupied.

Following his gaze, Coco could see the attraction. What _was_ it about Komatsu..?

To one side, Sani almost purred as he watched the chef chop vegetables smoothly, attention focused on the even-more-focused chef as he cubed them neatly, almost unbelievably accurate. There would be no unevenness of cooking in Komatsu's food. In the meantime, wordlessly, Zebra dropped a stack of meat (placed on some conveniently large leaves to keep it clean) next to him, apparently content with his contribution to the meal, crunching carelessly on a long bone as he did. Almost a miracle, to see him helping—

Really, watching all of them navigate around Komatsu, almost orbiting him, was a strange miracle in and of itself. It spoke to Komatsu's inherent extraordinariness, although it was far from being the cause of it—that was simply who he was. It was also oddly comfortable, the five of them together.

Even if Komatsu's expression, accidentally overseen, as he shuddered and moaned and moved his hands firmly over his—

That was going to haunt him for a while. Coco winced. It wasn't the time to think about that. Instead, he went to get fruit for dessert before Toriko roused himself and, as cheerfully gluttonous as always, ate it all. Inexplicably, he found himself smiling, embarrassing events or no.

Maybe Komatsu wouldn't mind, if he ever found out. Once he got over the embarrassment—once he'd been assured that there hadn't, really, been much to be embarrassed about, and certainly nothing for him to be ashamed of—it would all work itself out. Because it was Komatsu, Coco could believe that.

-End-

Author's Notes: I ship it. I ship it _all_. My current prevailing theory is that everyone is gay for Komatsu, and/or that Toriko is the crackiest harem anime _ever_, in disguise.

I'd also like to thank everyone else who's written and is writing Toriko fics-they've all been amazing, and I have trouble reviewing sometimes, but I love this fandom _so hard_ even though we're still teeny-tiny. Hopefully not for long, though! The quality of what's been written is absolutely amazing, I love all you fantastic multishippers out there, and it's almost curing my need to do the fangirl-squee thing about the series. ;)

More seriously and more relevantly, I have several semi-related oneshots lined up. Two more are already started, with a long list one ones to come after that, all loosely connected in my own vague head-cannon, all revolving around various combinations of Komatsu, Toriko, Zebra, Coco and Sani. Coming soon: "Komatsu is Sick" (Komatsu, Coco, gen/USTish) and "Not my Boyfriends" (Komatsu/Toriko, Komatsu/Coco, Komatsu/Zebra, Komatsu/Sani).

I'd also be hugely, hugely grateful if someone was willing to beta my Toriko fics?


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